


Astilbe

by Val_Creative



Series: Language of Flowers Femslash Feb 2021 [26]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Best Friends, Explicit Language, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Drinking, Musical Instruments, New York City, Partying, Post-Season/Series 01, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: A drunk Sara teaches an even drunker Mila to play the kalimba.
Relationships: Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino
Series: Language of Flowers Femslash Feb 2021 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138865
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5
Collections: Femslash February, Femslash Friday





	Astilbe

**Author's Note:**

> Made purely for the lulz and femslashy cuteness. Hope you enjoy! Any comments/thoughts you have are welcomed!
> 
> _Note: Astilbe - Patience_

*

America knows how to do one thing right:

_Party like hell._

Sara ditches Michele and the Grand Prix's formal after-banquet in New York City for a local house party. Her twin hasn't stopped congratulating Sara on her highest ranking in the Women's Total and Short Program scores. She loves him, but no — _no_.

Mila steals a Pink Whitney from the corner-store, yanking the alcohol out of her puffy, padded jacket gleefully once they're safe. Sara helps her drain down the bottle, hiding in an alleyway when a cop car rolls by, reveling in the sweet pink-tart citrus flavor. She doesn't remember the boy's name who invited her, lightheartedly flirting in her DMs, but Sara never finds him. That's okay.

They meet a couple of sorority members on the lawn, exchanging SMS accounts and taking a berry wine cooler each. One of girls with a little nose-piercing recognizes Sara, petting her hair and gushing loudly about Sara's red diamond-sequin costume.

"You did look kinda hot," Mila whispers, squeezing Sara's hand wrapped in hers and leading the way in.

Bass-boosted music thuds in their ears. Sara enters through a turquoise LED-lit doorway curtained in metallic gold steamers — and that's where her memory gets fizzy. She remembers dancing, and drinking her wine cooler and two or three expensive-sounding beers, and lying on the upstairs bed with Mila's fingers rubbing gently on Sara's titty accidentally hanging out.

_Fuck._

(And also, _fuck_ Pink Whitney — in the morning, Sara swears off anything else but wine. It's not worth the 100/10 hangover.)

"Fuck," Mila mutters, hunched down on a concrete step, knocking her palm-heel against a wooden kalimba. She's been trying to play "Toxic" by Britney Spears for the last five minutes. Sara found the musical instrument in what must be a little sister's room.

 _"Use your thumbs."_ Sara leans heavy and giggly on Mila's shoulder, watching her. _"Thumbnail. Now tap the B tab."_

_"Your other B tab, babe."_

_"B for babe, babe."_

_"Babe."_

"Shaddyyep," Mila complains, facing her and managing to glare without any effort behind it. Sara giggles more high-pitched, pushing her lips sloppily over Mila's nose and nipping down. Mila squeals, flailing. The kalimba tumbles into the lawn-grass.

There's no taking her, or themselves, anywhere.

*


End file.
